


Let's Get Physical

by Swordy



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe, Chill XV, Crack, Eighties, Flirting, Gladnis, M/M, gladio teaches aerobics, hints of promptis, ignis wears spandex (unwillingly)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-24 08:57:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13210359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Swordy/pseuds/Swordy
Summary: Ever since Fame came out a few years back, people have been clamouring to develop their own moves and it's clear from the numbers here that Flashdance did more for classes like Gladio’s than it did for welding.Prompto convinces Ignis to join him at an aerobics class. The teacher is Gladio, which frankly makes enduring a green unitard a lot more bearable...





	Let's Get Physical

**Author's Note:**

> This story is totally my own fault. I love getting prompts to write and this was suggested as a joke. But I figured I'd write it anyway. I'm not even sure what it is aside from a fictionalised FFXV version of Eric Prydz's 'Call On Me' video.
> 
> Comments and kudos are lovely, so please feel free to leave them. :)

“You expect me to wear _that_?”

Prompto turns the offending item back toward himself to study it like he's never noticed how completely and utterly hideous it is. After several seconds' consideration, he frowns and shrugs.

“What's wrong with it?”

“Well there's the colour.”

“It matches your eyes!”

“And the material.”

“It’s spandex; it allows the body to breathe!”

“It's borderline offensive,” Ignis says indignantly, almost sloshing his coffee across the countertop. “In fact, what am I saying? It _is_ offensive. If I go out dressed like that I'd almost certainly be arrested, and quite right too.”

Prompto’s frown deepens. He's a nice guy but, bless him, he's not the sharpest. “Because it’s green?”

“Because it leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination, Prompto!”

Finally it dawns on the other man. “ _Ohhh_ , you're worried about it showing your junk?”

He rolls his eyes. “Although I'm not inclined to refer to my genitalia as ‘junk’, that is my primary concern, yes.”

Prompto grins, and instantly is back to his usual bouncy self. “Oh, that's no problem. I can lend you something to go over the top of it.” He lurches forward and grabs Ignis’s hand that's resting on the countertop. “Just please say you'll come. _Please_?”

Ignis attempts to make one last stand, even though the puppy dog eyes of his oldest friend have always penetrated his greatest defences. “But it's an aerobics class. It's hardly my cup of tea.”

Evidently sensing that victory has already been secured, Prompto beams.

“You know what, Ignis. I actually think it _might_ be.”

OoOoO

For someone with his intelligence, he sometimes makes some ridiculously questionable decisions. There was of course the time he went out to a bar and muttered the fatal words ‘ _what in the Lord’s name is a Slippery Nipple_?’ and now this. Come to think of it, Prompto has been the common denominator in any disastrous situation he's ever found himself in, so clearly once he's survived this hellish hour of aerobics he's going to sit down and work out how he goes about getting better friends.

Doing aerobics is bad enough, but doing it whilst dressed in a green unitard with a similarly indecent pair of satiny-soccer shorts (also green) over the top is almost certainly going on his list of things that confirms that even the smartest people can take leave of their senses sometimes. As they arrive at the dance studio the following Saturday morning, he grimaces at his reflection in the mirrored walls as they pass, feeling like a bespectacled Kermit the Frog.

Thankfully, at the bottom of his gym bag he discovers a plain black t-shirt which will cover the offending item somewhat. He wonders why it's languishing there until he pulls it on and remembers that he'd shrunk it the last time he washed it, and as a result, it's a little on the slim-fitting side. Prompto frowns, clearly insulted by his attempt to disguise the unitard, until he assures him he'll remove it if he gets too hot (not happening). The icing on this particularly unpalatable cake is the black sweat band Prompto flicks at him, but by this point he's past caring, so he puts it on. At least it'll keep his hair out of his eyes. Speaking of eyes, he debates the pros and cons of doing the class whilst wearing his glasses and decides to keep them on for the time being at least.

It's not that he's out of place in his attire. The rest of the people who filter into the room for the class due to start are dressed similarly - indeed Prompto is sporting a black and yellow one piece that makes him look like an anthropomorphised bumble bee. Yet somehow he manages to not look completely insane, even though the man’s wearing honest-to-God _leg_ _warmers_. The clientele are mostly female, but there's also an intense-looking young guy with brilliant blue eyes who pushes his dark hair away from his eyes so frequently Ignis is tempted to offer him the sweatband. Prompto goes chatting to him for a moment; he can't hear what they're saying, but it's the closest blue-eyed guy comes to smiling. Maybe this is why Prompto was so desperate to come. Lovely for him, but there's hardly anything here for… him.

_Oh good god._

The door opens and into the room walks six and a half feet of possibly the best looking man he's ever seen in his life. The newcomer is well-muscled from head to toe - a fact that requires no imagination on his part since he is wearing the skimpiest pair of black shorts and a tattered grey t-shirt that hangs off one shoulder and covers barely a third of his seriously impressive six pack. His arms bulge out and dip in at all the right places and they're both covered by a tattoo that, on most people, might be considered a little too much. Belatedly, Ignis realises that the black patterns are feathers and, when the man bends over to tie the lace on his sneaker and his t-shirt gapes, he discovers the design consolidates in an eagle’s head that rests across one mountainous pectoral, its beak tantalisingly close to his nipple. Suddenly the room feels much, much too warm.

“That's Gladio,” Prompto says in a low voice, suddenly appearing at his shoulder like a ghost. There's something close to amusement in his friend’s voice, suggesting Prompto knew exactly what effect Gladio’s arrival would have on him.

“He does aerobics too?” he manages to squeak out, and good grief, he's unable to tear his eyes away from this beautiful Adonis of a man.

“Uh uh,” Prompto replies, shaking his head. “He _teaches_ aerobics.”

Shock breaks the magnetic hold, and he whips round to face his friend, almost dislodging his glasses, his head moves so fast. “He's the _teacher_?”

“Yup.” Prompto grins. “Told you it might be your cup of tea.”

He opens his mouth to reply, but is beaten by Gladio who claps his hands loudly to gather everyone’s attention. “How's about we get things started, huh?” the man shouts, confirming that he has a voice that's as loin quivering as his body. Gladio reaches for the boom box at his feet and begins to press buttons and turn dials. “So, have we got any new folk today?”

Ignis is reasonably near the back so he's not planning on outing himself, especially when no one else pipes up, but of course he should have counted on Prompto who calls out, “Over here, Gladio! This is my friend, Ignis.” And then, just to compound his mortification, Prompto is pointing for good measure.

All at once he's the focus of every set of eyes in the room, but none of them are as captivated as the amber gaze of Gladio, which is accompanied by a smile the likes of which could rival the sun.

“Iggy,” Gladio says and neither he nor Prompto see fit to correct him. “You ever been to an aerobics class before?”

“Ah, no. I believe it's my first time.”

Gladio's expression warms as he speaks. Maybe it's his accent. He's often been told that others find it appealing. The smile gives way to a grin as Gladio presses one final button and moves to stand in front of the class.

“A virgin, huh? Well, I'll try not to be too rough.”

There are a few giggles around the room, and he's desperately trying to think of a response to that comment which won't make him any redder (there isn't one) when the opening bars of _Flashdance_ kick in and Gladio shouts, “Okay, it's important to make sure we warm up properly, so let's start with something gentle...”

Gentle quickly gives way to more energetic and Ignis finds himself starting to perspire by the time they reach the end of Footloose’s _Holding Out for a Hero_. Gladio’s routines utilise all the songs from recent hit dance movies - ever since Fame came out a few years back, people have been clamouring to develop their own moves and it's clear from the numbers here that Flashdance did more for classes like Gladio’s than it did for welding.

It also helps that Gladio is an excellent teacher. He exudes energy and although the steps aren't overly complicated, he makes them look easy, moving through them with a fluidity that makes it seem like they're part of something infinitely more sensual than aerobics. A couple of times (aside from the general whole class encouragement) he shouts things like ‘you doin’ okay there, Iggy?’, but mostly it's the eye contact that lets Ignis know Gladio is keeping a close eye on him. At first he assumes it's because he's new, but when they begin a routine to the song _Manhunt_ , it's impossible to ignore the way Gladio catches his eye during certain lyrics. _Man, I wanna make you glad you're alive_!

For his part, he finds he's enjoying it far more than he'd anticipated. As a child, he'd trained in several different disciplines and whilst the classes and the teachers have disappeared in the mists of time, the muscle memory of the various steps remain. When they're nearing the end of _Maniac_ , Gladio calls out with a grin, “okay guys, big finish comin’ up! Anyone who can do the splits, this is your moment!’

And without a second’s hesitation he's dropped to the floor, green spandex-clad legs performing perfectly executed front splits. As he brings his head to rest on his outstretched leg, he realises that the song has finished and has been replaced by applause for the few of them who have managed it. He straightens up to see Gladio staring straight at him, grinning. He's clapping too.

As the hour draws to a close, they finish with some stretches to the sounds of _Almost Paradise_. Prompto dragged him to see Footloose three times, so he can picture the scene where the song plays, only instead of Kevin Bacon and Lori Singer, it's him and Gladio dancing cheek to cheek. He's enjoying this little fantasy until he catches Gladio watching him closely. Fortunately the song finishes, and he can turn around and bury his face in his towel without it seeming too obvious.

“Okay,” Gladio says, “great class, everyone. Hope to see you all back here next week.”

There's more applause and noises of assent, before people start to gather up their things. The blue-eyed guy mutters a goodbye and then heads for the door, but not before his eyes seek out Prompto. Ignis is about to make a comment when he realises that Prompto is no longer beside him as he’s quickly grabbed his own bag and made after the departing man. The room quickly empties and suddenly he realises that he and Gladio are the only two people left. Coming down from that exercise high, he wonders if he's imagined all the flirting. Maybe he can just slope away while Gladio is getting his stuff together to leave…

“So, did you enjoy the class?”

Ah. He turns back to face the other man as he loads his cassette tapes into a bag. “I did, thank you.”

“Cool,” Gladio replies, nodding his head. “So you think you'll come again?”

“I don't see why not. Although I'm not entirely convinced about the spandex,” he adds, gesturing to his attire.

“Really? I think it suits you.” Gladio scrubs a hand through his damp hair, but never breaks eye contact. “And I'm glad you might come back, because, you know, I'd really like to see you again. If you're interested?”

It's impossible to ignore how Gladio’s hand drifts down to rest on his incredible abs. He's signalling his intentions loud and clear, and the realisation makes his heart beat a little faster. He gestures toward the bag in Gladio’s hand.

“Do you have the actual Flashdance soundtrack in there?”

Gladio frowns. “Sure.”

Ignis shoulders his own bag and flashes the other man a smile before he turns and heads to the door.

“Wonderful. Personally, I've always had a soft spot for track eight.”

As he walks, he can hear the sounds of Gladio’s frantic scrabbling in the bag, presumably as he searches for the tape in question.

“Track eight?” Gladio calls after him. “ _Seduce Me Tonight_?”

He flicks a look over his shoulder as he stops, one hand resting against the doorframe. His smile curves into something infinitely more devilish.

“Why, Gladio, I think that sounds like a _splendid_  suggestion. Your place or mine?”

 

 

**End**

 

 

 


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